


Until reality starts

by alice_maximoff



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky's POV, Bucky's diaries, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Civil War (Marvel), Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, POV Second Person, Protective Bucky Barnes, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-06-08 11:37:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6853030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alice_maximoff/pseuds/alice_maximoff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's like forgetting the words to your favourite song.<br/>You can't believe it. You were always singing along.<br/>It was so easy and the words so sweet...<br/>Now I can't remember, and sometimes I wish I hadn't.</p><p>But then she did the simplest thing in the world. She leaned over and kissed me. </p><p>And the world cracked open."</p><p> </p><p>Steve closed the diary and hid it on his jacket. He needed a plan to get Bucky and (Y/N) out of there. </p><p>And he knew exactly what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A lullaby on the wind

The notebook sat heavy in the palm of his hand.

It wasn’t a large book or particularly thick, but inside lay the answers he had sought during so long.

“The SWAT team has just been informed about the flat’s location. We’ve got 20 minutes till they arrive. Something new?” Sam asked through the communication device.

Steve looked around the small room. The light bulb in the center was bare and hung down on its white wire, adding to the meager ambiance of the room, which only contained a small mattress, two straight backed chairs and a small kitchen.

“I’ll wait 10 minutes inside the flat. If he hasn’t arrived, we’ll search for him on the other locations Sharon gave us”

“Got it” Sam replied.

Steve paused, looking at the notebook.

There he had a window into his private thoughts...

Did he want to know?

He fingered the cover, tracing the pattern of the name written on it: _James_. It had been so long since he had seen his handwriting…

His fingers traveled to the two only post it notes used as bookmarks: one of them red and the other grey.

 

He opened the notebook by the red bookmark.

A photograph.

 

That was all it took for his emotions to come to his mind like the waves meeting the land.

A photograph of him in his uniform. He focused on the words written next to it: _Steve Rogers._

The memories that those words and their meaning awoke weighed heavy.

Steve turned the pages quickly, flipping through them until he reached the other bookmark, before even more emotions soaked his entire being.

He needed his mind clear at that moment.

When he looked at the new page he saw a name written next to some instructions:

“ _Her name is (Y/N). If I ever have to remember who she is, all I need to know is:_

  1. _She is one of the few people that sustain me._
  2. _When I’m not at war with myself, I hear her beautiful voice singing for me_
  3. _I belong to her”_



And without realizing it, Steve found himself entirely absorbed into the pages of Bucky’s diary.

 

**________________**

 

> _**15 th October** _
> 
> The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles.
> 
> I raised my finger, pointing at one of them.
> 
> Some minutes after, my long fingers wrapped around the glass. I eyed the amber liquid and the golden glow of the glass. I raised the glass to sip, feeling the keen burn on my tongue for one last time.
> 
>  
> 
> I had already taken my decision and there was no way back.
> 
>  
> 
> I tried to forget. I really tried. To leave the past behind.
> 
> But I couldn’t.
> 
> The guilt sat not only on my chest but inside my brain. It was like gasoline in my guts. My insides died slowly in the toxicity, needing no more than a spark to set it ablaze.
> 
> It burnt me out so badly there was nothing left but a shell, an outline of a person.
> 
> Their screams and last words would come to me in quiet moments, such as when I was going to sleep or stopped to take a lunch break. It would seep to the foreground of my mind and demanded to be reexamined again.
> 
> Each and every victim of the Winter Soldier.
> 
>  
> 
> I was tired.
> 
> I know that what I had decided to do wasn’t the bravest thing, but it seemed the only solution at that moment.
> 
>  
> 
> I put my hand into my jean’s pocket, making sure the gun was still there.
> 
> It was.
> 
>  
> 
> My thoughts trundled around my brain like a through train. Until I heard some voices next to me.
> 
> An old man was talking to the bartender, pointing at something behind them.
> 
> “Is she the new singer, Tom?” the old man asked.
> 
> “Yeah. It’s her first day. I hope she lasts more than the other one” the bartender sighed.
> 
> “I don’t know how you manage to convince people to sing in this wretched bar” the old man smirked.
> 
> “There’s always people in need of some money, Joe. But as soon as they are offered something else they leave”
> 
> “Who wouldn’t, Tom?” the old man turned around.
> 
>  
> 
> That’s when I heard it. From the crowd came a humming sound, dulcets tones creating a slow and wordless melody.
> 
> “Let’s see how she does it… It’s been a while since I’ve heard some good singing” the bartender whispered, his attention focused on the stage in front of him.
> 
> I couldn’t help but turn around.
> 
>  
> 
> The singer looked up from the microphone.
> 
>  
> 
> My stunned eyes locked onto her unfamiliar grey ones.
> 
> But they just weren’t grey, that term was far too plain in comparison. Her eyes were like storm clouds, swirling with determination and vigor. They glittered in the light but appeared black and cold in the shadows of the scenery.
> 
>  
> 
> Beautiful.
> 
>  
> 
> (H/C) strands cascaded down her back. Around her face it was cut a little shorter, feathered to accentuate her features.
> 
> Her cheeks were rouged and she was dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a grey band shirt.
> 
>  
> 
> Absolutely beautiful.
> 
>  
> 
> A part of my mind cursed myself for not having noticed her before.
> 
> Her eyes scanned the room with determination.
> 
> I knew I was still staring at her intensely, but I couldn’t bring myself to look somewhere else.
> 
> When our eyes met again, she shot me a smile that could light up the night and before I could think about it, I was already smiling and closing my eyes.
> 
>  
> 
> Her voice rolled over the place in sorrowful waves. Then swells of power and lightness rose up in her throat. I couldn’t even tell if it was words that came from her. Her voice was music, and grace, and the haunting feeling of knowing that it was brought out in a fit of pain, desire and happiness.
> 
> Unaware of my own heart beating or the rise and fall of my chest, I drifted into a state of utter calmness.
> 
>  
> 
> When I finally opened my eyes I looked over the crowd but she wasn’t there anymore.
> 
> And that was the moment I realized that her voice had replaced the ones inside my mind.
> 
> And, somehow, that was everything.
> 
> Even if it had only lasted for some minutes.
> 
>  
> 
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> I strolled into the inky darkness of the alleyway behind the bar. After a quick glance over my shoulder, and one more to make sure, I took the gun out of my pocket.
> 
> I felt how the cold and smooth surface touched my temple.
> 
> My eyes began to drift close, thought my thoughts didn't.
> 
> _I decided this long ago_ , a part of me whispered. But again my finger faltered at the trigger.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Until.
> 
>  
> 
> Dulcet tones came from behind.
> 
> Her voice was smooth and clear and quiet yet powerful. Soothing in a way. The lyrics swam through my cerebral cortex like a wakeful dream:
> 
>  
> 
> _“It’s hard letting go… It feels wrong…_
> 
> _My hands and feet are weaker than before…_
> 
> _But wherever there is you… I will be there too…_
> 
> _Because everything will be fine… with your head resting next to mine…”_
> 
>  
> 
> The notes relaxed me, enabling the song to call my entire being.
> 
>  
> 
> I turned around slowly, my hand and the gun lowering until it was placed on my pocket.
> 
>  
> 
> I still think about that moment... 
> 
>  
> 
> Her eyes were filled with a kindness that seemed so innocent and genuine, so endless… as big as the sea.
> 
>  
> 
> _Maybe I just wanted to do it later, when no one was at sight._
> 
>  
> 
> Her eyes were filled with a kind warmth.
> 
>  
> 
> _Maybe I just couldn't bring myself to do it._
> 
>  
> 
> She laid her hand lightly on my shoulder, and instead of flinching like I usually did, I was soothed by it.
> 
>  
> 
> _Maybe I just needed someone. Some help._
> 
> But of course, in that moment, I just thought that the reason was that I didn't want witnesses...
> 
>  
> 
> _Only as time went by I understood..._
> 
>  
> 
> She left her hand there and continued singing slowly.
> 
> I felt her words calming me, more by the way they were sang than the actual lyrics. It felt as if I were wrapped in a blanket of her caring.
> 
> “Your eyes are like smoke: gray and full of heat” my own eyes dipped into the girl’s. It took a second for my words to sink in me. It felt like someone else had just said them.
> 
> “Hate to break it to you, Shakespeare, but smoke isn’t full of heat, it’s an effect of heat” she gave me a smile that was just so genuinely sweet that an unexpected warmth rushed through me.
> 
> “That works too” my crooked smirk switched to a small smile, letting my words roll out of my lips, “They get darker when you’re angry”
> 
> “Like you would notice.”
> 
> “Like I wouldn’t.”
> 
> **___________________**
> 
>  

“Five minutes left” Sam announced.

Steve closed the book, breathing heavily. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples, as all the words he had just read sank slowly in him.

He looked around the room, trying to calm the storm of feelings that delved inside of him.

 

But when Steve’s eyes stopped at the flat’s door, they were met by his icy blue ones.

Buck.


	2. It always ends in a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHH  
> I'm so excited for this chapter!
> 
> Enjoy

_“Winter soldier cautat pentru bombardmentul on Viena”_

 

Once again, (Y/N) couldn’t believe her eyes.

Her mind was reeling, unable to comprehend or process the headline of that day’s newspaper.

She looked at the photo again.

Bucky.

Did he…?

 _Of course he hasn’t_ , her mind hissed angrily.

But then…

Adrenalin flew over her veins like a carp through the river. Her fingers pressed into the thin paper, her whole body shaking.

_If he didn’t do it, who had taken that photo?_

Her heart pounded in her chest as fast as a single thought raced her mind:

**She had to find Bucky before someone else did.**

______________________

 

“Do you know me?”

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum” he whispered.

Steve stood still. For a moment he was unguarded.

There _he_ was.

Bucky.

James.

He clutched the shield tight in his hand, searching for a ghostly reflection of the man he once knew in the one who was standing in front of him.

“I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reasons to be, but you’re lying” he chose carefully his words.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore” Bucky’s cerulean eyes swept over him like a cold midwinter breeze. They felt like ice and glass.

 _“The SWAT team is about to arrive, Captain”_ Sam informed through the communication device

“The people who think you did are coming here now. And they are not planning on taking you alive” His sentence ended in a plead.

He needed to take Bucky out of there as soon as possible.

“That’s smart. Good strategy”

____________________

(Y/N) began climbing the stairs. Her limbs moved as if some inexperienced person was controlling them remotely.

When she arrived to the second landing her mouth hung with lips slightly parted and her eyes were as wide as they could stretch.

There wasn’t even a point in trying to fight them.

There must have been twelve well-armed police men at the very least. They wore black bulletproof vests, helmets and more guns than she could count on the fingers of one hand.

As some of them turned around to face her, (Y/N) realized of something.

 

She had nothing to protect Bucky but her words and cunning.

 

(Y/N) made the loudest and most piercing scream she had ever heard.

And boy, what a scream that was.

The soldiers turned around to face her, while some of them approached to shut her up.

“THERE’S A FUCKING RAT AS BIG AS CAT ON MY KITCHEN” she shouted.

The men approaching her stopped and stared at her dumbfounded.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! GO THERE AND KILL IT” She gestured towards their guns.

(Y/N) could just imagine the sparks in their brains, desperately trying to connect the dots and instead just causing a short circuit.

“IF YOU DON’T HAVE THE BALLS TO DO IT GIVE ME THE FUCKING GUN” Oh man, she was running out of things to say.

 

But then, a loud thump was heard upstairs.

And then came the moment (Y/N) had been fearing.

One of the soldier’s standing on the stairs widened his eyes in realization: “CATCH HER, SHE IS THE DISTRACTION” he ordered to the soldiers next to her.

 

Well…

**Dammit.**

She hoped that at least her screams had warned Bucky and given him some time to escape.

___________________

“THERE’S A FUCKING RAT AS BIG AS CAT ON MY KITCHEN”

“(Y/N)” Bucky whispered.

_No_

**No.**

She couldn’t be there.

She shouldn’t be there.

His muscles became frozen in place. All he could see was loose forms with color. If his heart beat any harder or louder it might as well stick a spotlight on his head.

“She’s giving us time” Steve whispered in realization.

Then, he stared as Bucky, noticing his change of attitude.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck. We have time to escape”

“Steve,” Bucky’s eyes were narrowed, rigid, cold, hard. “I don’t kill anymore, but if something happens to her… if (Y/N) is in danger, I won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes me to save her”

Then, he turned around and as soon as the door opened, gunshots cracked into the air.

_It always ended in a fight._

______________

As soon as Bucky spotted (Y/N), pinned to the wall by one of the agents, a burning rage hissed through his body like deathly poison, screeching a demanded release in the form of violence.

His fists impacted on the soldiers’ bodies, aimed to their weak and uncovered points, taking care of them one by one. At the same time, he dodged the bullets with the ability that unwanted experiences had given him.

Steve followed him soon after. When he exited the door, he couldn’t help but gasp at the number of soldiers that were already lying on the floor. One of them was holding a walkie-talkie. His eyes were close as he sucked in a deep breath: “ _We need reinforcements. The Winter Soldier is here. A young girl with (H/C) hair and grey eyes is with him.”_ When the soldier looked up, his eyes met Steve’s.

He was about to speak again through the walkie when Steve grabbed it, squeezing it into his hand until it was nothing more than wires and spare parts.

Then, he ran after Bucky, knocking off the remaining agents, aiming at them punches, kicks and his shield until they were left completely unconscious.

A part of him knew that what he was doing would give rise to more consequences than the ones he was willing to acknowledge. But he couldn’t just stand there and do _nothing._

It was Bucky.

James.

When he made sure all the agents were knocked down, he began walking down the stairs, searching for Bucky.

When Steve found him, the scene unfolding left him dumbfounded.

Bucky’s lips were brushing the girl’s. Not innocently, but fiery and demanding. When the girl pulled away, Steve noticed pearl-shaped tears rolling down her cheeks from her wide luminous grey eyes.

She was, indeed, as Bucky had described her in his diary.

Absolutely beautiful.

“No. I’m not leaving you” she hissed. More tears rolled down her cheeks, but her eyes held a strong determination.

“Babydoll, I need you to be safe. I need you to get far away from here” his hands were clearing her tears away, “You know I lo-“

“Bucky” Steve cut, “there are more agents coming. We need to go”.

 

When they both turned around, Bucky’s eyes showed the kind and gentle concern he used to have with him back at Brooklyn. The girl’s expression was one of surprise.

“We need to get her out of here” Bucky stated, “I’m not going anywhere until she is safe”

“James…”, (Y/N) sighed.

“Sam, come to the flat roof of the second floor. I need you to take a civilian to a safe place” Steve said, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s.

“ _Got it.”_ Sam answered

Bucky nodded as his hand drifted to her hip. It settled there and pulled her closer.

(Y/N) inhaled sharply. She hesitantly looked at Steve and Bucky, who were still looking at each other.

The swirl of emotions she saw in each soldier made her gasp.

 

“Steve,”, she whispered, “protect him”.

Steve looked at her. She saw the shock register on his face before he could hide it.

_She knew his name…_

_Had Bucky told her something about him? Did he remember...?_

 

Bucky stroked her long (H/C) hair, pulling her closer into his chest.

Inching his nose a little nearer to her neck, he breathed in her scent for one last time, her light scent of lilies and evocative memories.

He didn’t care if Steve was watching him.

That may be one of the last moments he could have with (Y/N) … until God knew when.

“You’re not going to get rid of me so easily, James” she whispered.

“ _I’m here, Captain_ ” Sam announced.

___________________

“Alright, I need you to stay here and hide somewhere, because, apparently, your boyfriend has just decided to start a fight against a man dressed as a cat”

(Y/N)’s face washed blank with confusion as Sam unfastened some belts and straps he had used to secure her while flying.

“A cat?”

“Yeah, so now I have to help them fighting a whole SWAT team plus their reinforcements plus a cat” Sam sighed.

When he looked at her, his soft lips stretched into a smile but didn’t quite reach his dark eyes. They were lit with sadness: “Take care of yourself. Lay low until things calm down” he whispered.

He turned around, his wings opening as he went back to the fight.

(Y/N) tried to control her breathing as she thought of everything that had just happened.

The SWAT team was obviously trying to arrest Bucky for the bombardments at Vienna. A crime he hadn’t committed.

Steve (the person James had told her so many stories about) and his friend were helping him to escape.

 

**Everything was a fucking mess.**

Back at the building, she had told Bucky that she wouldn’t leave. But his stubbornness and her own would only delay his escape. That was why she had agreed to leave with Sam.

But she couldn’t stand there and hide.

She couldn’t just do _nothing_ when everything was going so wrong.

Her eyes scanned the empty street.

She needed to do _something_.

Then, her eyes saw it. It was so different to anything that could be bought at a local shop… Engineered to be powerful and designed to offer the least wind resistance.

(Y/N) glanced around the street again, the corners of her lips fighting a smile, her eyebrows slightly raised.  She looked again, a mischievous look in her face.

 

If living in the streets as an orphan had taught her something, it certainly was how to steal a motorcycle.

______________

 

Bucky’s breath came in small spurts, hot and nervous. At his sides, his fingers curled into sweaty fists, swinging forward as if it would make him faster.

Behind him, he could hear the baying sirens and the loud growl of his new enemy.

Dirt smeared his sweaty face as sweat dripped from his matted hair.

 

_Where was (Y/N)? Was she safe now?_

Sadness flowed through his veins and deadened his mind. He had to escape, to get out of there. He needed to lay low until everything went back to normal.

But.

 

Would he ever see her again?

Once again, in his sadness there was no past or future. The next days would be measured from the moment of waking into reality until sleep came to rest his weary mind.

The love, light and laughter she had brought would be replaced again by that aching hollowness.

 

“BUCKY!”

That was her voice.

Was his mind already playing tricks on him?

“BUCKY, GET ON NOW!”

When he turned his face around he saw (Y/N) riding a black powerful motorcycle some meters behind him.

It took a second or two for the new information to sink in, even though it was right before his eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? GO AWAY” Bucky shouted.

She turned slightly to face him, her eyes glowing like an enraged panther.

“YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GET RID OF ME THAT EASYLY, JAMES. GET ON THE FUCKING MOTOCYCLE NOW!” her voice rose above the sound of the sirens.

 

Bucky couldn’t help but feel his lips stretching into a gaping grin.

She shouldn’t be there.

She was so _damn_ stubborn.

And he loved her with all his being.

 

In seconds he was behind her. She could feel him squeezing his arms around her.

No longer was she a memory. She was warm, fragranced and soft.

(Y/N) felt a hot breath on her neck, then the tender brush of lips. Burning as they make contact with her neck.

Then, Bucky turned around, searching for the man dressed in black. He spotted him 30 meters away, gripped tightly onto a police car.

 

It was time to up the game.

“Doll, I want you to grip the motorcycle tightly, I’m throwing a grenade” he warned. He didn’t want her to get scared and lose control of the vehicle.

As soon as she nodded, Bucky pulled the pin and aimed towards the bridge’s roof. The blow came as the grenade ignited in a fiery ball of yellow flame, billowing outwards, debris landing on the road.

Bucky nodded to himself, but then he saw **him**.

The men dressed in black jumped through the explosion and tried to reach for their motorcycle. Bucky’s heartbeat stopped as he knew what was coming next.

He quickly turned on his seat and embraced (Y/N). He curled his body protectively around her, trying to cover her body as much as he could. His metal arm surrounded her head.

When the man grabbed the motorcycle, they were thrown into the air. (Y/N) let out a strangled scream and felt blood well into her throat from the tongue she had just bitten.

When they hit the concrete floor Bucky felt the pain penetrating his cells, as his body softened the blow. It swirled without mercy, but all he could think about was (Y/N), while he tried to cover her body.

After ten long seconds they finished rolling down the road, (Y/N)’s trembling body on top of his. Bucky was about to search for any injuries on her when he saw the man. He stood behind (Y/N) with his claws raised in the air.

No doubts crossed Bucky’s mind. He changed positions with (Y/N) rapidly, protecting her body with his own.

And he closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to start.

 

But it didn’t.

 

Steve quickly grabbed the man and threw him some meters away.

 

Blue and red lights began surrounding them.

There was no way to escape.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... did you like the chapter?  
> I'd love to know your opinions about it!
> 
> So much drama coming on future chapters!
> 
> Comments are better than Bucky eating plums ;)
> 
> Love,  
> Alice Maximoff


	3. Criminals and saviours

**15th OCTOBER (1 YEAR and 5 MONTHS BEFORE)**

 

_“Your eyes are like smoke: gray and full of heat” Bucky’s eyes dipped into the girl’s. It took a second for his words to sink in him. It felt like someone else had just said them._

_“Hate to break it to you, Shakespeare, but smoke isn’t full of heat, it’s an effect of heat” she gave him a smile that was just so genuinely sweet that an unexpected warmth rushed through him._

_“That works too” Bucky’s crooked smirk switched to a small smile, letting his words roll out of his lips, “they get darker when you’re angry”_

_“Like you would notice”_

_“Like I wouldn’t”_

Her hand reached for his. Her long and thin fingers fixed perfectly, completing the space left in them. Bucky couldn’t help but notice her knuckles were red. Wine-red blotched from the cold.

Only then it dawned on him that she was holding his metal hand covered by his leather glove.

 

 **His metal hand**.

 

Bucky felt the tension in his chest waiting to take over. He let out a slow controlled breath and attempted to loosen his stiff posture, waiting for that moment.

For the moment in which she would ask him why his hand felt colder and harder than a normal hand.

The moment in which she would ask him for more information, in which she would want to know why he had been about to end his life in a dark alley behind a bar.

His eyes moved with alertness, scanning her face, trying to read her emotions.

But her head was tilted towards the already black sky. The moonlight streamed down upon her wintry pale skin, the shape of her lips reflecting the crescent above. The autumn breeze tousled her hair and pinked her cheeks.

A brief smile stretched across her face when a gust of wind encircled her.

 

_Why wasn’t she scared?_

Tilting her head, she looked at him from the corner of her eye.

“I’m going to sing again at the bar, I was just taking a small break” she whispered, holding his gaze.

And then she gave him that warm smile with the right touch of shyness. The warmth rushed through his body and welcomed him like an old friend.

But it was… strange. He had never felt that way before, or at least that he could remember. It felt peculiar… it scared him.

“No one has ever closed his eyes and smiled the way you did when I sang” Her unasked question lingered in the air.

 

 ** _No_** _, you have to end what you were about to finish_ , a part of his mind whispered angrily.

But at the same time, the other part was lost in her eyes. So solid, so bright… the exact color of a polished shard of metal.

He remembered the silence that had caressed his skin and shushed the voices in his mind when she sang. It was somehow comforting and… peaceful.

Would it be bad if he enjoyed it one last time?

As soon as he nodded he felt her hand squeezing his own, guiding him out of the darkness and into the small bar.

**…**

Her music filled the air without effort, like the waves filling holes in beach sand, the sound rushing in and around every person in the room.

And there she was, head tilted back, eyes closed. She was just dancing, spinning arms outstretched as if she was absorbing the whole world. Everyone looked at her hypnotized, trying to drink her vivacity.

But whenever her eyes opened, they always searched around the room for his, never someone else’s.

And when their stares met, her eyes shone, relieved that even if she had closed them for a moment, he still remained in the same place.

 

As the night went by, Bucky’s never-readable face transformed.

All of a sudden he was an 18 year-old again in Brooklyn, and the corner of his mouth twitched into his cheek because the most beautiful dame in the room was looking at him.

 

Eventually, he lost all sense of everything except for her voice.

…

When her music stopped, Bucky’s lids opened violently, hoping that everything hadn’t been just a dream.

But there she was, standing in front of him, a deep curve on her soft lips. Was she aware of her disarming smile?

“Will you sing tomorrow?”

Bucky’s eyes widened with surprise as he lowered his head. Had he just said that out loud?

“Will you come tomorrow?” she answered.

Trepidation swelled through him as he slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. They both knew perfectly the meaning behind her question.

 _Will you be alive tomorrow_?

 

Bucky’s head nodded before he could even command it to do so.

 

(Y/N) leaned closer, and Bucky felt his heart beating so hard he feared she would hear it. His eyes closed and his breath got caught into his throat when her lips caressed his cheek.

As the soft skin of her mouth left the side of his face, the exact contact burned and tingled, a hot blazing fire pulsing through him.

A small grin crept into his face as their eyes locked, having a private conversation of their own.

**…**

Late that night, as Bucky pressed his back firm against the cold sandstone bricks of an abandoned building, he couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if that night had taken place 90 years ago.

James Buchanan Barnes would have kissed (Y/N)’s lips and neck until the only name she remembered was his, until everything engulfed his senses and stole away his worries, until all he would be able to hear were her beautiful and sweet moans joining his own.

**…**

 

Her eyes always shimmered like the rare rays of light bouncing off of pebbles on a cloudy day when she saw Bucky entering the bar each night.

And, _as every night_ , his drink of choice was vodka on the rocks, but to (Y/N) his alcohol tasted like nail polish remover, or at least what she thought that would taste like.

And, _as every night_ , they would talk during her break and some hours after she finished singing.

She loved rainy days. They inspired her to write new songs.

She was trying to get ahold of some high key songs, and that night she would sing one of them. They were really tricky, because she had to learn how to tense her abdominal muscles in that exact position while her vocal cords had to tighten to their limit.

What she loved the most about autumn was the golden and red colors flying like a fire in the sky. She would always pick up the golden orange leaves from the ground.

She once had dreams of becoming a beautiful dancer and singer, but upon an unfortunate series of events she saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars.

 _But you already are_ , Bucky wanted to say, but his words always died before he could dare to pronounce them.

She never talked about her past or her family, but he understood her. He didn’t want to talk about his either.

He would just tell her some stories before the war happened, before everything happened, when things were much more simple and easy. And even some of the memories were sharp and cut right through him, it felt good to tell them.

The corners of her mouth would always lift up into a smile, and even it may hurt because of her chapped lips, she didn’t care. (H/C) locks danced on her cheeks until she tilted her face towards the bar’s dim lights, still smiling.

And, _as every night,_ her laugh felt absolutely delirious.

 

At the end of the night, their last conversation would always resound in his head, over and over, as he returned to the small flat he had rented some blocks away from the bar.

_“Will you sing tomorrow?”_

_“Will you come tomorrow?”_

And, as every night, he would decide to live **one more day**.

 

 

That was his routine.

Until, one day, everything changed.

 

* * *

 

**PRESENT MOMENT**

 

All Bucky could feel was an unstoppable snowball in the pit of his stomach as he stared at her unconscious body lying on the road.

 

He couldn’t concentrate on anything, not on the red and blue lights from the cars that surrounded them, nor in the stern voices that ordered them to surrender.

 

His heart started beating harder and faster as he checked with trembling hands her pulse and breathing. He daren’t even breath, frozen on the spot as his fingers ghosted over the right side of her neck.

There it was!... Was it? Was it there or was it just his imagination?

But as her beating got louder his doubts faded away.

“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOU BACK”

He scanned her body, looking for injuries or broken bones.

Bucky pulled the collar of her shirt down, revealing a slight red mark lining her neck, just where his arm had surrounded it.

“PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK NOW”

From her right elbow to her hand there was raw and weeping flesh in various shades of pink and red. Her ragged jeans enmeshed with raw pink flesh and were spotted with blood on her legs.

“GET AWAY FROM HER AND PUT YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR BACK!”

His metal fist came in contact with the pavement violently, propelling pebbles around.

That was **his entire fault.**

 _He hadn’t been able to protect her_.

 

(Y/N)’s eyes opened slowly. Her head was spinning. Red and blue lights danced, dazing her brain cells with their rapid transitions. She closed them tightly, and when they fluttered opened again, they met Bucky’s mesmerizing icy eyes, looking into hers anxiously.

 

“She needs medical aid” Steve hissed. His lethal stare was fixed in T’Challa, who had taken off his mask some minutes ago, revealing the identity of the Winter Soldier’s chaser.

T’Challa locked his cold and rigid eyes on Steve’s.

He nodded slowly, and as soon as he did, some police officers and infirmary aid approached Bucky and (Y/N).

“Congratulations, Captain. You’re a criminal” Rhodes whispered as he handcuffed Steve.

 

_Criminal._

He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He clenched his fists tightly until his nails dug into the palm of his hand.

_What was going to happened next?_

He had been ignoring and leaving aside the repercussion of his actions, immersed on Bucky’s rescue, but now they were taking their toll.

_What would happen to Bucky?_

Steve’s attention went back to his friend, who was being handcuffed by four members of the SWAT team. They moved carefully around Bucky, fearing that the Winter Soldier would show reticence to being handcuffed, but instead, his attention remained centered in (Y/N). The sanitary aid was asking her questions and bandaging her injuries.

Bucky’s eyes suddenly met his. Steve had anticipated a cold and piercing glare, but, on the contrary, he found a profound distress and sadness shinning in his eyes.

“Protect her” his lips whispered, repeating the same plea that (Y/N) had just made half an hour ago.

 

The expression on Steve’s face was sufficient for Bucky to know that he would.

_____________

“So you like cats?”

“Sam…” Steve warned.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat and you don’t wanna know more?”

(Y/N) sighed. The pain killers she had taken felt more like a leech in her cranium, sucking her ability to keep her eyes opened and her brain switched on. She closed her eyes, trying not to get dazed by the wind that pushed the police van to no avail.

“And what does she understand by “ _to lay low_ ”? To steal a fucking motorcycle?” Sam asked with a much lighter tone than the one he had use with T’Challa.

“Sam” Steve warned hastily as he looked at (Y/N), who was seated next to him. On her neck were scattered purple welts that would only deepen over the coming week.

“He killed my father” T’Challa whispered from the front seats of the car.

Steve couldn’t help but suck in a breath when (Y/N) opened her eyes.

They flashed with indignation and anger, much like the lightning on a pitch black night. There was a tenseness she wasn’t even trying to mask, her small hands curled into fists even the sharp and cold metal from the handcuffs dug into her skin.

T’Challa turned around in his seat, as if sensing her piercing glare.

“And you are with him…” he murmured with surprise, looking straight at (Y/N).

 

Oh man, if looks could kill, he’d have been staked, buried, dug up and then staked again for good measure.

“HOW DARE YOU? HOW FUCKING DARE YOU? YOU ALMOT KILLED HIM, YOU ANIMAL! IS THAT THE WAY YOUR HIGHNESS TREATS INNOCENT PEOPLE?!”

T’Challa’s face remained unaffected when he talked again: “If he’s innocent, why did he run?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because those claws seem SHARP AS FUCK!” (Y/N) hissed, her voice hoarse from yelling.

The silence that followed hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground, only interrupted by Sam, who was muttering on the back of the car something about a motorcycle

The police van suddenly stopped and without another word, T’Challa left.

 

“What will happen to James?” (Y/N) asked, turning her face to Steve.

“You’re special” Steve whispered, moving his handcuffed hands next to hers, caressing them sweetly.

In despite of the tears that threatened to make their way down her cheeks, (Y/N) smiled at him.

“I get why he chose you”

“Hell! Who wouldn’t? A fucking motorcycle, man…” Sam murmured.

She continued smiling a little, a smile with a twist to it, like the smile of a child who is determined not to weep.

“It’s okay” he said, reading her thoughts, “It’ll be over soon”.

Steve moved closer, trying to reassure her.

_If only he could believe his own words._

 

The back door of the car was suddenly opened by a man wearing a black vest with a loose white shirt. His black hair was tousled and accentuated the black circles under his chocolate eyes.

He stared at them with an unreadable expression on his face.

(Y/N) didn’t need to have another look to know who that man was.

 

“Stark” Steve sighed.

 

 

It wouldn’t be over soon.

**It hadn’t even begun.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... did you like the chapter?  
> I wanted to delve into Bucky and (Y/N)'s beginnings before action begins again ;) 
> 
> And... beware, winter is coming...
> 
> Comments are better than Bucky duckfacing into a Hydra facility
> 
> Love,  
> Alice Maximoff


	4. Just close your eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes an intense chapter...  
> Enjoy!

She had to admit it: the girl, (Y/N), was smart.

She had been studying her through the one-way mirror of the interrogation room in spite of the glares and angry whispers among the agents next to her. She was fully aware of the mistrust that her presence stirred up.

 _Nothing new_.

She was already used to that situation, even more after she came out in the open.

But Natasha Romanoff had more important things to take care of, like the girl sighing with frustration on the other room.

She had already gone over (Y/N)’s file: her parents died in a car accident, orphan at the age of 4, lived on Bucharest orphanage till the age of 16, some petty crimes in between. She became a singer at late-night bars and pubs at Bucharest…

Nothing useful.

Nonetheless, Natasha had always found that analyzing the person itself could provide more information than the one on the files. And that case was not an exception. She had already discovered three more things about (Y/N).

The first one was that (Y/N) had a way with words when she wanted to, and she used them to confuse the agents. With her words she turned them upside down, making the lines between the right and the wrong get blurred.

 _Resourceful_.

The second thing was that (Y/N) knew it. She knew that in spite of giving the agents all the information they asked for, they wouldn’t believe her. They wanted to hear a confession of the Winter Soldier’s crime, not a reasonable speech of why he didn’t do it.

After 10 minutes trying to convince them she realized about it and began confusing them.

 _Smart_.

Natasha discovered the last thing when the girl glanced her way, looking straight at her even though she wasn’t able to see her through the glass. Her grey eyes like pale smoke ensnared the Russian agent in a net of intrigue: (Y/N) was showing the others what she wanted them to see. Not who she really was. And there was something about her that wasn’t written on the files and that she couldn’t figure out.

 _Enigmatic_.

But after all, (Y/N) was a normal person: no powers, no special abilities, no fighting techniques…

**Why her?**

Why did the Winter Soldier choose her?

Natasha tried to calm herself by concentrating in her breathing. She blocked away old memories. They were past memories after all, and what had happened was already buried and the feelings were subdued.

But still…

**Why her?**

**…**

“I’m the psychiatrist that will follow your case”

Bucky’s sigh was resigned and weary.

Of course they would do that. The government was trying to get evidences of his culpability in all the ways they could.

Bucky looked around his jail cell again while the psychiatrist continued talking. He was trying to find some way to get out of there. Any minimal error in the building of that cell would give him a chance to escape.

But there was something disturbing about that glass box he was in. It had been engineered with absolute precision. The corners were sharp and straight, the windows perfectly squared, but the glowing lights above him were what bothered him the most.

“Can I call you James?” the annoying man continued.

“My name is Bucky” James hoped that Steve was hearing the interrogation.

He had lied to him, back at the apartment. **Of course he knew him**.

He had filled entire pages with their memories. It was a chaos in his head, but every time he remembered something he wrote it down, wishing it was true. The memories were blurred, the past a fading dream and nothing to prove if it was real. Why would they be real?

But still, he wished Steve had heard that.

He needed him to know that he was Buck, that they needed to get out of there, that they needed to get (Y/N) out of that building.

(Y/N) …

Each minute away from her increased his anxiousness.

_Where was she?_

The more anxious Bucky became, the more pronounced became his intellectualization of the whole process. And none of his thoughts ended in a good outcome.

_Was she safe?_

His mouth ran dry and his stomach turned in an unfriendly way. He felt as if his brain were full of static, either firing off a million unhelpful thoughts at once or offering nothing at all.

_If they dared to put their hands on her…_

His patience was wearing thin, and that man’s constant chatter wasn’t helping.

 

But.

James’ thoughts stopped in their tracks as soon as he heard a soft sound resembling the blow of an explosion far away from where they were.

Straightaway, every light in the room extinguished except for the ones inside his glass cell.

His body tensed and his eyes scanned the dark room with alertness, his hands remaining clenched by subconscious demand.

As soon as the psychiatrist approached and the dim red lights of his cell spilled onto his face Bucky couldn’t help but mutter: “ _What the hell?”_

The man in front of him was grinning. A wide and open grin showing his over-whitened teeth.

“At last we are alone” he whispered before clearing his throat.

When he turned at last to face Bucky there was no trace of the grin and his eyes were narrowed and cold.

“ **Mission report, December 16 th, 1991**”

Bucky became white as chalk. His eyes and mouth were frozen and his brain formulated no coherent thoughts, unable to speak, totally stunned as the memories of that day bounced around inside his skull.

Bucky closed his mouth, then glanced back up to catch the psychiatrist eye:

“ **No** ” was all he could say.

“Then, we will do it my way” the man sighed. He walked towards the table where he had his notebooks and computer while he spoke: “If only I had known before about your girlfriend… it would have saved me the trouble of finding this”. He approached the glass cell with a red leather notebook, a black star engraved in the middle.

Bucky’s face fell faster than a corpse in cement boots.

No

**No.**

The thoughts accelerated inside his head, his breathing coming in gasps. Bucky tried desperately to move his arms and legs. His heart was hammering inside his chest as if it belonged to a rabbit running for its skin.

There was a hurricane inside of him. Only one thought remained constant:

_The Winter Soldier can’t wake up._

“As I said, I would have used your girlfriend if I had known, but now that we have this notebook…”

Bucky’s eyes were wild, his arms pushing against the metal handcuffs and plaques that restrained him. It didn’t matter the pain searing through his body as the metal dug into his skin.

_The Winter Soldier must not wake up._

“…let’s give them hell” the man whispered.

All his fears were tumbling out unchecked by his brain. The man was in front of him, his fingers going through the pages of that atrocious notebook.

James’ scream came again, desperate, terrified… human.

He didn’t want to listen.

No

**No.**

He tried to recall (Y/N) and her sweet voice. He began singing slowly their song with his trembling voice.

“ _Just close your eyes_ ” Bucky whispered. He managed to get his metal arm out of the cell’s handcuffs

“ **Longing** ”

“ _The sun is going down_ ” His other arm became free.

“ **Rusted”**

“ _You’ll be alright_ ” His fist impacted on the glass cell

“ **Seventeen”**

“ _No one can hurt you know”_

He tried it, he really did, but the man’s words sounded louder than hers did in his damaged mind.

“Soldat?”

“ _Ready to comply_ ”

**…**

The alarm was an ear-splitting wail. Blaring. Unceasing. Crippling her thoughts and assaulting her ears.

_What was happening?_

(Y/N) desperately tried to hide how fearful she was.

She could control the tremor in her voice to a degree as she asked the only guard that was left to surveil her what had happened.

She could make herself concentrate on ways to escape from that room.

Almost all the agents were required at the floor level. The guard in her room was distressed and had no weapons with him. 

She didn’t have handcuffs. She had been making a fuss about how they were damaging her wrists and as soon as the agents understood that (Y/N) was not threat, the handcuffs were gone.

They had obviously underestimated her, just like the guard surveilling her.

 

(Y/N) approached the guard, feigning a panic attack. With her two hands she grasped his neck, as if she was desperately holding to something to avoid falling to the floor.

The guard looked at her with widened eyes. It seemed he hadn’t been taught at the Agent’s academy what to do with a woman who was having a panic attack.

But as soon as (Y/N)’s fingers surrounded his neck tightly and pressed on the exact spot Bucky had told her about, the guard’s eyes widened even more. She pressed harder before the agent could react and fight back.

His body landed unconscious on the floor in just a few seconds.

As (Y/N) took the guard’s keys from his pocket and opened the room’s door she couldn’t help but smile when she recalled Bucky’s first lesson when fighting:

“ _Never underestimate your enemy_ ”.

**…**

(Y/N) could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest as she quickened her pace to an all-out sprint to the room where the sounds of the fight came from.

When she entered, her face became chalk-white. The thing she had been fearing the most was happening.

The agent’s bodies were scattered around the floor. One of them was trying to get up, but his face closed in a grimace. Only then (Y/N) registered the man’s identity: Anthony Stark.

And in the middle of all that chaos was Bucky.

He was fighting against an agent with short red hair.

Bucky’s fist slammed into her chest, sending her straight to the table behind her, crashing it under her body. The soldier approached while the agent tried unsuccessfully to get up.

Before (Y/N) could think about it, her legs were already running towards him.

When she reached him his fist was raised in the air, prepared to give the final punch to that agent.

“James” (Y/N) whispered, placing her hand on his shoulder.

But as soon as she did it, Bucky’s hand was in her throat. A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout (Y/N)’s body as his hand raised her body, her feet unable to touch the floor anymore.

She struggled against him, shooting her right leg out but her movements were far too slow for the Winter Soldier.

“James… _Just close your eyes_ ” her voice faltered when his fingers dug deeper in her throat, but she continued singing, “ _the sun is going down_ , _you’ll be alright_ ”

The tears made wet tracks down her face as her hands closed around the soldier’s grip.

 _“no one can hurt yo_ -“

She couldn’t breathe. The room was spinning and she felt like she would black out.

How had she been so **naïve**?

That man wasn’t Bucky anymore and a sweet song wasn’t going to take back what decades of torture had seared in his conscience.

(Y/N)’s skin went pale, her hands leaving Bucky’s grip. She crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings.

Her world went black before she could notice how the Soldier’s grip softened, his icy eyes widening, looking right into her grey ones, which were now closing.

Everything went black before she could register the tall and handsome man pushing the Soldier far away from her, as well as the red-haired agent who got hold of her head before it hit the hard ground.

**…**

Tony approached to Natasha and (Y/N), panting slightly as his pain increased in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end.

“How is she?” he asked, looking at the unconscious girl.

“She will survive” Natasha answered. Her eyes moved from the young girl to meet Stark’s, “they will escape, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Tony nodded at the agent, his brown eyes never leaving hers.

“She is the only possibility we have to get Barnes back. They will come for her”

Tony sighed. Of course they would.

“General Ross will make us go for them”

“Of course he will, but if **she** is under General Ross’ surveillance we won’t be able to take advantage of what she represents for the Winter Soldier. You know perfectly that Ross will interrogate her all day long, hoping that she will tell them new information about Roger’s whereabouts. She will be locked far away from us.

 _We won’t be able to use this advantage, Tony_ ”

“So you’re suggesting to...”

“Yes. If we do it now they will assume that she escaped. Just make sure the clips are erased”

**…**

“Which Bucky am I talking to?”

“Your mom’s name was Sarah. You used to wear newspapers in your shoes. Steve... what did I do?”

“Enough” Steve cut him.

“Where is she?” Bucky tried to sound calmed, but his trembling voice betrayed him.

The silence that followed lay on his skin like a poison.

“Where is (Y/N)?”

 

“I… I don’t know”

 

**…**

 

“Vis! What is it?”

The android entered the living room holding an unconscious girl in his arms. Her long (H/C) hair floated wildly around Vision’s arms as he proceeded to leave her on the couch.

Wanda approached her. The girl had warm (H/C) hair and pastel skin, which made her beautiful pink lips stand out. Her cheeks were rouged and she was dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a grey fitting shirt.

“Who is she?” she looked at Vision, who was clearly as confused as she was.

“Natasha took her here. She didn’t say much… she seemed to be in a hurry. Her only instructions were to keep an eye on her. To take care of her.” Vision eyes stopped at the purple bruises scattered around the girl’s neck.

Wanda’s hands ghosted around the girl’s body, her eyes closed, deep in thought. There was something strange about that girl… Her hands continued moving.

She needed to confirm her suspicions.

“Wanda, what are you doing?”

Vision waited patiently until the red dancing flames stopped coming out from Wanda’s hands. When she opened her eyes, there was surprise and confusion in them.

“Vision, why did they bring an **enhanced**?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh oh... Enhanced?  
> Did you like the chapter? Oh my, I'd love to know your thoughts about it!
> 
> I'm sorry if there're some grammar mistakes. English is not my mother tongue so I may mess up some things from time to time.
> 
> Comments are better than dancing with Bucky!
> 
> Love,  
> Alice


	5. The beginning of a journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music is vital for some parts in this chapter  
> Whenever you see this through the chapter: [ ], inside will be written the music I recommend you to hear while reading that part. 
> 
> Enjoy!

_“Enhanced?”_

Wanda nodded absently. Her mind was running through a list of possible reasons that could have brought that enigmatic girl, (Y/N), to the couch of Stark’s facilities in such a messy state. She tried not to stare at the bruises of her neck, but she kept finding her eyes diverted to it.

“We need more information, Vis. Did Natasha say something?”

“No”

“We will have to find it out ourselves”

Red flares swayed from Wanda’s hands, matching the scarlet color of her wide eyes as she immersed herself in (Y/N)’s memories.

 

* * *

 

** 1 year before **

_And, as every night, he would decide to live **one more day**._

_That was his routine._

_Until, one day, everything changed._

****

(Y/N) walked along the rough cobbled alley behind the bar. When she looked up, the roofs were so close together that she could only make out a sliver of the moonlight sky, mirrored by the tiny stream of light that trickled along the cold stone ground.

She kept walking in circles, kicking a loose stone around. She needed to calm down before entering in the bar. She didn’t want people to see her swollen and red eyes.

She didn’t want to think answers to their questions.

 

“It’s been four days since I last saw you, doll” the deep voice startled (Y/N).

Her heart twisted and sunk with nerves as Bucky approached. She turned around slowly to face him, and as soon as the moonlight splashed down its watery silver glow onto her figure, Bucky’s eyes widened.

 “(Y/N)… Are you okay?” he blurted

 _“She is clearly **not** okay, jerk!” _ Bucky’s inner voice scolded him.

(Y/N) raised her hand, ghostly in the moonlight, and wiped the tears pouring from her eyes away from her cheeks. Bucky raised his right hand, reaching out towards her face, but he paused within inches of contact.

Insecurities started to make him doubt.

 _What was he doing?_ His metal hand opened and closed, rhythmically clenching.

As soon as (Y/N) cleared her tears away, a fresh torrent busted forth. Her breaths came in sharp pants and her body shook like a leaf.

Strong and warms arms surrounded her shoulders and waist, pulling her closer. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of his body pressed against his. (Y/N) sunk into the warmth of Bucky’s side, appreciative of the simple gesture. His touch made the alley warmer somehow, her future within its walls a little less bleak.

When she finally looked at him, his face was rigid with tension, his eyes constantly searching for any sign of an injury. Bucky’s stomach shifted uneasily, his right hand clasping and unclasping her hair as if in constant need of touch and reassurance.

“What happened? How can I help you?” the distress was noticeable in his voice.

(Y/N) remained silent. In her building anxiety she had constructed elaborated rationalizations of everything that had happened, and the nagging voices in the back of her mind spoke of nothing but doom ahead. She shook her head, burying it again in his chest. Bucky stroked her long (H/C) hair and pulled her closer.

The silence caressed their skin like a cool summer breeze, soothing (Y/N)’s sadness. Bucky couldn’t stop the fear thoughts looping around his mind. As minutes passed, he sighed resignedly, understanding that (Y/N) wouldn’t talk about what was upsetting her.

At least not that night.

“You know, they say a good sleep in a warm bed helps to clear one’s thoughts” Bucky whispered into her hair, trying to lighten her mood.

But.

(Y/N) tightened in his embrace. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her stomach, fiddling with her knuckles, weaving her fingers in and out of each other.

“That’s the thing, James” she sighed into his chest. Her eyes were large and watery.

She took in a sharp breath, “I don’t have a warm bed anymore. A low-paid singer at late night pubs cannot indulge in such privileges”.

She clenched her fists tightly, until her nails dug into the palm of her hand, but she barely noticed. The only thing she was aware of was the sound of her heart throbbing against the cage of her chest: “The landlord kicked me out three days ago.”

It was not until Bucky cupped her cheek and caressed her lip with his thumb that she realized she had been biting it.

“I am so tired, Bucky”.

His eyes were staring at her so intensely she wanted to look away, but was kept captive by them. She felt his warm hand reaching for hers, loosening her clenched fist. (Y/N) closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. When she opened them again, Bucky was smiling tenderly at her.

“Are you better now?” he whispered.

“I will be”

                                                                                                                           …

The small crowd at the bar was so jubilant, singing the songs that belonged to the inebriated and joyful. They rubbed shoulders, never minding that their toes were often trodden on. The atmosphere was one of elation as the notes of (Y/N)’s voice saturated the room like water, sound bellowed from her well trained lungs, ebbing and flowing like the tide.

Bucky sipped his drink absently, the frosty feeling down his throat shoving him back into reality. But still, that thought trundled through his brain like a through train, with no intention of stopping. As he watched its tail light winking in the distance, all trace of it leaving his neurons, he wondered if what he was about to do was a huge mistake or one of the few good things he had done since a long time ago.

He stared at (Y/N) as her sweet voice echoed amongst the walls of that wretched bar and up to the rafters. Her grey eyes held such an intelligence and passion while singing that it was impossible not to be held prisoner by them. The clicking of her heels added rhythm to her soft tunes.

He finally took a decision.

As soon as (Y/N) approached after finishing singing that night, he did it.

He asked her.

The quick flutter of her lashes showed perplexion while her eyebrows knitted together to complete the look of bemusement. She remained silent for a minute, weighting her options. All of them were much worse compared to what Bucky had suggested.

(Y/N) finally nodded and thanked him for letting her stay at his apartment for some days.

…

[Soldier, Fleurie: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=32W3J7XaNH8]

Bucky stared at her as she slept. Her hair was matted and splayed about the pillow her head sunk into. Her small frame was curled to one side as if in protection of itself and her pale lips were slightly parted. Her lashes were long, thick and dark. The moonlight that crept through the window fell over her eyes and made those lashes glisten so that from the correct angle they looked almost white.

She was so damn beautiful.

He never wanted to see those lashes damp. Not ever again.

A sudden movement and her shaky breath informed Bucky that (Y/N) wasn’t as sleepy as he had thought at first.

“Still up, doll?” he whispered.

(Y/N) opened her eyes slowly, looking to the chair where Bucky was seated.

The moonlight was illuminating his figure. He was sitting still, leaning his head against the wall. His arms and hands were covered by a jacket and gloves.

They both remained silent for a while, breathing together, watching the shadows flicker over the walls and each other’s faces.

“Did I wake you up?” (Y/N) finally asked.

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t sleep, doll. My mind has the scary capability of producing dark nightmares.”

“You are afraid of your dreams?” she whispered.

“Yes” he muttered.

(Y/N) seated up, dragging her feet to the side of the bed as she rubbed her knuckles onto her eyes. She remained in that position for a moment, thinking about her next words.

“Do you want me to sing?”

Bucky stared into her eyes intensely.

After some minutes, his cerulean-glass eyes closed and Bucky nodded.

“ _Soldier keep on marchin on’_

 _Head down till the work is done_ ”

Her voice rolled in sorrowful waves. The music soared through the air like an eagle on an up-draft, taking with it the only soul of the listening audience

_Waitin’ on that morning sun_

_Soldier keep on marchin’ on”_

It ascended in a magical flight to the heavens, a simple but breathtaking melody.

Bucky clutched the solid wooden frame of the chair. The words of her song were piercing his mind.

But he didn’t move or fight back, he just endured the pain as memories flashed through his mind, accompanying her words.

 _“You gotta wipe the dirt off of your hands_ ”

He looked past his blurry eyes and stared upon her face. Her eyes were closed as her velvet voice cut right through him.

“ _Soldier keep on marchin’ on_ ”

“ _Soldier keep on marchin’ on…_ ”

The end of the song held him spellbound in rapt silence.

When (Y/N) finally opened her eyes, Bucky’s were burning into hers.

“How did you know?”

“From what you’ve told me it was easy to deduce you were a soldier, James” she replied boldly.

Bucky stood up and approached the mattress.

“What else do you know?” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers.

“You’ve got a prosthetic arm. I know you try to hide it with that glove but I still can feel the difference whenever I touch it”

Bucky’s face had all the emotion of wet concrete, his facial muscles just as loose. There was no anger, no anxiousness, no resentment or relief.

“Are you scared?” he asked quietly.

(Y/N) stood up from the mattress and stared into his icy and emotionless eyes.

“No” she answered categorically, “Are **you** scared?”

(Y/N) saw the shock register on his face before he could hide it.

No one had ever asked him something like that.

“Yes” his words left his lips before he could retain them.

 

As Bucky stood silent in the middle of the room, (Y/N) came over to him and embraced him warmly. Her round arms held him firmly to her and he, seeing her face lifted to him in serious calm and feeling the warm calm rise and fall of her breast, smiled sadly at her.

Unexpectedly, his hand drifted to her hip and settled there, pulling her closer.

With a sudden movement she bowed his head and joined her lips to the corner of his.

It was too much for him. He closed his eyes, surrendering himself to her, body and mind, conscious of nothing in the world but the dark pressure of her soft parting lips so near his. They pressed upon his brain as though they were the vehicle of a vague speech; and between them he felt an unknown and timid pressure, darker than the swoon of sin, softer than sound or odor.

She reached for his metal hand and held it tightly.

“Are you better now?”

“I will be”, Bucky whispered.

 

Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone’s hand is the beginning of a journey.

At other times, it is allowing another to take _yours_.

* * *

 

Wanda stared at the girl open mouthed. Her brain formulated no thoughts other than to register that she was shocked. She closed her mouth, then looked at Vision, who was awaiting expectantly.

“She’s with the Winter Soldier” was all she could say.

Wanda glanced gain at the girl lying on the couch, her hands returning to her head

She couldn’t wait another minute. She needed the rest of the information.

“What are you doing?” Vision took his hands out of his pockets, suddenly unsure of where to put them.

The flames flickered and lapped around (Y/N)’s hair.

“I still need another answer”

 

                                                  ________________________

 _I need something about her power,_ Wanda thought as she navigated rapidly through some of her memories.

None of them had the information she was searching for.

Until.

Wanda suddenly found herself amidst darkness: there were no more memories.

That wasn’t normal.

Whenever she got into someone’s mind, she could usually navigate through a timeline of that person’s memories. She could pick any of them and have a look. She could even feel the connection between some of them.

But in this case, as she followed that timeline she found darkness.

She tried to push herself further, trying to extend her powers inside of (Y/N)’s mind, trying to reach something among that darkness.

Wanda could feel her heart throbbing inside her chest, her muscles tensed with the effort.

 

After some minutes, she started hearing something. Vague sentences:

 

“ _You told me you wouldn’t leave me_ ”

 _“This exceeds me. It exceeds you… All of us._ ”

 

Wanda tried to leave aside the exhaustion as pushed further… She could distinguish a female voice, probably (Y/N)’s, and a male one that she didn’t know.

 

“ _He’s the only one who can help you, (Y/N)”_

“ _No… please_ ”

 

Wanda tried to dig deeper into that darkness.

 

_“That’s not what I want”_

_“There is no other option, (Y/N)”_

 

 

The words suddenly stopped as something pushed her back, like a force repelling her own power. Wanda stood still, shocked.

Someone had placed a barrier in (Y/N)’s mind that was blocking her memories. Wanda tried to reach that vague sentence again but the barrier pushed her with even more force.

She tried to direct her red flames against it, but as soon as she **realized** , her concentration shattered to pieces.

The barrier pushed Wanda away until she went out of (Y/N)’s mind.

Wanda opened her eyes and took in a deep breath. She only knew another telepath who could have made such a strong barrier.

 

Her mind was reeling, unable to comprehend or process what she had just witnessed.

Why would **Charles Xavier** set up a barrier in (Y/N)'s mind?

 

 

 

She looked around the room, searching for Vision, until she saw him standing by the window, looking at a forest located behind Stark’s building.

“I’ll be back in a moment” Vision announced, “there seems to be some disturbance. Please, stay here Wanda”

His body melted through the wall and then flew towards the small forest.

 

Wanda became alert.

_Disturbances?_

She was about to approach the window to have a look when she felt it: there was someone else in the room.

With some of the force she had left, her flames danced towards the knives at the kitchen.

 

“Is this a proper welcome?” Clint’s voice resounded over the room.

Wanda turned around surprised and ran towards Clint, engulfing him in a warm hug. But her smile died faster than wisps of smoke dissipated after a candle flame has been snuffed out.

“We need to go. Captain America needs us”

 

“We’re taking **her** with us” Wanda pointed at (Y/N), who was still lying unconscious in the couch

“But-“

“Clint, _trust_ me”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm sorry this chapter took me so long.   
> It was a difficult chapter for me to write, but a beautiful one as well.
> 
> I would love to know your opinions about it.   
> Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it^^
> 
> Comments are better than Bucky in his 40's uniform ;)
> 
> Love,  
> Alice Maximoff

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to know your opinions on this chapter! Hope you enjoyed it!  
> Next chapters will have more fluff and action!
> 
> Comments are better than Bucky buying plums


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